Indulgence

The next day, I came back. I don't know why. Were my pills failing me? I kinda felt bad for him having to be alone all the time.

"Welcome back!" he clapped his hands. "You're government friends never showed up to kill me."

"I haven't reported you…yet…" I said. "And please stop saying 'kill.' You're making it sound like it's unpleasant."

Euthanasia was meant to be a way to keep the population tame while making space for the next generation. Completely natural. Hunters used to do it to animals all the time in the old world.

Plus it prevents the majority of us from dying off of horrible illnesses at old age that even modern medicine can't fix. We consider it a mercy.

"You guys are funny. Killing and liability expelling are the same thing."

"They're not," I replied.

"So, if you took my life with a sword right now, would that kill me?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"But what about a lethal injection?"

He was trying to trap me here. But I knew how to reply.

"A lethal injection is only applied by a licensed individual who specializes in preparing the elderly for their expulsion," I said.

"And, that's different from killing, how?"

Didn't he hear me? His mind must have been so far gone that he clearly couldn't see logic.

"I don't think trying to explain it any further will help," I said.

He let out a hardy laugh, kicking his feet a few times, then took a drink from an unmarked bottle.

"Alright. You made a believer out'a me! Ha!"

"Glad we got that straightened out."

I'm surprised that worked on him. Although, that laugh he made definitely seemed disingenuous.

"Look…killing is the act of taking someone's life. Licensed or not, it's still killing."

"So, you didn't understand after all."

How many times did I need to tell this old man? Killing and liability expulsion were two very different things.

"Believe what you want. I won't say you can't live that fantasy. But if I were you, I'd do a little bit of thinking on how death works."

"Death is an ultimate end. Once you reach it, you're done. Nothing comes after. We only exist to propagate and progress the species."

His face turned melancholy. Then he let out a deep groan.

"Kid, you really believe that?"

"Who wouldn't? When we die, our brains shut down. There's nothing left to give us consciousness."

He picked up his bottle again and took a deep drink from it.

"Now I remember why I left your world. This is just so damn depressing." He stood up, then leaned against the wall.

"Depressing or not, that's what life is. Just neurons firing and causing us to react to our environment."

"If life's just about a bunch of meaningless neurons firing, then just go and liability kill me or whatever already. Maybe I can go to Heaven. Heh…I'd take Hell over this, honestly. At least then I'll be with my friends."

It was offensive to think our lives didn't have meaning. We were all cogs in society, turning so things could work.

"Maybe you should worry more about making this world a better place then worrying about some silly afterlife," I suggested.

"Yeah, maybe I should." He offered me his bottle.

"You're joking," I responded.

"Listen. This is logic juice. Drink it, and you'll see the world for what it is."

I had to admit, something about it piqued my interest. The smell was sweet, sharp and the liquid inside was pure white.

"I might look sick,” he started, “but I won't spread any diseases or nothin’. Take a sip."

Out of pity, I accepted a single sip of his drink.

Like the smell, It was really sweet, but had a sharp taste that made my body wiggle. I didn't hate it though.

Honestly, this was really something...

Before I knew it, I'd accidentally drank the rest of it.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Sake. Made from rice. Like it?"

It made my stomach feel warm. Its aftertaste wasn't too bad either.

"Where did you get it?"

He pointed to the dumpster. "You wouldn't believe the kind of stuff rich people throw away."

I knew what I wanted to throw…and it was up.

"Bleegh!" I spit. "You're telling me that rich people drink this garbage swill? That goes against the law!"

"Ha! Oh, kid…you think everyone follows the law, especially the people in charge?" He took the bottle back from me and tossed it backwards into the dumpster. "You guys get gruel, while they get the good stuff."

"Good stuff?" My head titled. For some reason, it was a little hard to keep myself balanced.

"Yeah, the good stuff. Beef…pork…chicken…" he was almost salivating. "Oh…what I wouldn't do for some beef tongue curry right now. I'd even take one of those fast food meals..."

The world was spinning. I felt really woozy.

"Fast food?" My head tilted a little more, almost making me fall over.

The old man caught me before I collapsed and helped me sit down. Then he gave me some water to drink.

"Woops…looks like you drank a little too much sake," he claimed.

In my state of confusion, a question appeared in my mind. "What did food taste like back then?"

"Ahh...where do I even begin?"

***

The details he was able to give me on the food he'd used to have was amazing. All the different dishes he described had my mouth watering.

"Occasionally, they throw some of that good stuff away." He dug through the trash, pulling out a small orange box. "If you don't mind a little character in your food, I might be able to scrounge something up for you."

Eating out of the garbage sounded disgusting and horribly unsanitary…but why was I still curious?

"I have to go to school…" I stood up, having an easier time balancing now, "but I can come back tomorrow and try it."

"Sure. I'll make you some…" he looked into the box, "Ohh hoo! Ancestors be praised! You'll love this one."

Whatever that was, I'm sure it would be terrible if it had been sitting in a dumpster. But, I'd give it a chance tomorrow.

***

When I got there the next morning, he held out a bowl of yellow liquid with pale looking noodle things. Little bits of green were speckled throughout it.

It didn't smell horrible, but that colour and sogginess really didn’t seem appetizing.

"Eat up." His brows bounced a few times.

"I'm not eating this. It looks unsightly."

"It's good, trust me. I used to eat this in college all the time."

He had schooling? What made him end up like this with an education?

Well, I accepted the bowl. It was accompanied by two sticks.

"What do I do with these?" I asked.

"Kid, ain’t you ever heard of chopsticks?"

He demonstrated how to use them on a bowl of his own food. I caught on quickly.

"Itadakimasu," he said, cupping his hands and bowing his head. "Say that before you eat."

"Itadakimasu," I mimicked his actions. What does it mean?" I asked.

"I humbly accept this food. You can say it to the chef or the gods. Doesn't matter, long as you say it."

"Gods don't exist though."

"Hee…" he snickered. "Tell me that after you've taken your first bite."

I really couldn't understand what that meant, but I rolled up some of the noodles around my chopstick and slurped it…

…

Woah.

…

"Mmmmm!" I squealed, immediately covering my mouth in shame. "I…um…I didn't mean to…"

"Ha!" He slapped his knee, then began slurping up the noodles from his bowl.

This was so good! I couldn't stop eating it. He called it ramen, and it's literally the best thing I've ever tasted.

It's actually only the third thing I've ever tasted, but my point still stands.

As a final little swan song to this exciting soup of savory noodles, the old man took the liquid in the bowl and drank it down. I followed his example.

“Ahh!” he let out a satisfied breath. “Good stuff, ain't it?”

“Yeah,” I smiled.

The taste was so good. Much better than the paste we had to eat daily. I don’t understand why, but lately it’s been tasting really sour. This was a real delight compared to that.

“If you want, every morning I can whip something up for you. It won’t be fancy or nothin’.”

“I’d like that,” I said.